Choosing a Side
by Deidara the Arrancar Alchemist
Summary: What would have happened if Norrington DIDN'T die? What if he chose another side, a side that alters his destiny? Here is my view of Norrington's life if he became a pirate and fought alongside the Brethren Court. Enjoy, fellow buccaners!
1. Choosing a side

_Choosing a side_

James Norrington frantically looked at the two choices before him. Two choices; one of which would result in death. On one side was Elizabeth, the woman he loved more than any selfish ambition he had once desired, calling his name desperately as she escaped along the rope tying the Empress to the Flying Dutchman. On the other side, one of the Dutchman's crew, an old sailor with all sorts of sea life growing on his salty skin, blade out ready to attack. Norrington had his prized sword in one hand, pistol in the other.

Time seemed to pass too fast to decide. He needed more time! Yet it was also the slowest moment in his life, the moment where he had a chance for redemption.

Choices. Which was right?

"James!"

"Part of the crew, part of the ship!"

Which was right?

Norrington aimed his pistol at the advancing crewman. The sailor paused, a little confused. The starfish on his face made an odd squelching sound in the second of silence. Norrington glanced up, and something caught his eye. This was his last chance. _Now or never, James_ he thought.

Bang! The bullet was released with a loud crack, flying through the air…

And hitting a rope directly above the sailor. The fibres of the rope snapped and the lantern attached to it dropped like a drowning man, crashing open in a burst of glass. Flames blossomed on the sailor, and he cried out loud and thrashed his arms about, trying to dispel the fierce orange fire that bit deep into his fragile skin. His weapon dropped with a clang, the sound awakening Norrington from his surprised daze. His plan had worked.

"James!" Elizabeth shouted as she neared the end of the rope, desperation in her frightened face.

Without a second thought, he sheathed his sword and gun and leapt up onto the slippery, green rope, clinging on as it swayed on the breeze.

"Yes! That's it!" Elizabeth shouted encouragingly from the other side. "Come on, James!"

One hand after the other in a frenzied ritual. _Keep going! _urged a voice in his head. The rope was wet with seaweed and sea spray, but he refused to let go. Not when he was so close.

There were shouts from the Dutchman as the mutilated, oceanic crew had arrived at the scene, a few seconds later accompanied by gunshots that were as loud as lightning in his ears. He gritted his teeth and fought the panic in his heart, trying to ignore the increasingly accurate shots.

He gasped and nearly slipped when a bullet took his admiral's hat, the projectile punching a hole through the material and casting in to the sea. He thanked God that that was not his head now bobbing up and down in the dark waves.

He was so close to the other side that he could taste the freedom on his tongue. The shots became less and less precise, hitting the heaving water below with soft splashes.

"We're out of range!" The crewman's disappointed cry was as sweet as revenge.

Norrington reached the other side, stumbling into the waiting arms of Elizabeth. He could have sobbed with relief, but he wouldn't let his brave face slip.

"We'll see about that!" came the voice of the infamous Davy Jones, his usual strange accent hard with rage.

Pain blossomed in his left shoulder as the bullet tore through his flesh, blood staining his naval uniform. He gasped in shock and fell forwards as the cold metal pierced deep through his bones, clutching the wound that felt damp and warm and fleshy. His knees hit the deck and Elizabeth lunged forward to his side, eyes wide with shocked concern.

Biting down a cry of pain, he glanced around and saw the Dutchman's captain standing there smug and holding a smoking gun in his tentacle-like hand. He turned around and limped off, his cackling crew following. Norrington was confused at first, but then realised that Jones thought he had made a crucial hit. Looking at his blood drenched fingers shielding the wound, he gulped when he saw that it had only just missed his heart.

Luck must be on his side today.

_That's all for the moment guys! Sorry if it was a little rushed, but I hoped you enjoyed the first chapter! More to come in the future!_


	2. Becomming a Pirate

_Becoming a Pirate_

James Norrington awoke with a pain in his shoulder and exhaustion in his bones. He frowned as he began to slip away from unconsciousness, reluctantly opening his eyes against the soft light brushing his eyelashes.

At first, he was confused as he looked at his surroundings. He was onboard a ship, no doubt about that, but by no means was it the hauntingly eerie and sea drenched _Dutchman_. He was in what appeared to be the captain's cabin, though one of the walls was patched up rather crudely with nailed on splinters of wood and cloth, and the room was cluttered and had obviously been cleared up hastily and half-heartedly. From what he could tell from the intact furnishings and décor, the ship's interior was oriental. _Where am I?_ he thought.

"_The Empress_," said a soft voice. Norrington twisted his head around at the sound, wincing a little when his wounded shoulder blazed with agony.

Elizabeth was standing in the archway leading to the cabin, near the bed where he had been lain on. Her dark blond hair was tied in a messy bun and she wore loose trousers and shirt, a sword in a belt at her waist. She was fiddling with what appeared to be a necklace around her neck, twisting it in her slender fingers. She was silhouetted against dim, yellow light from hanging lanterns, a sad expression tainting her beautiful face. Norrington he must have spoken out loud for her to answer back.

"Elizabeth" he mumbled, the word sluggish on his lips. He tried to sit up but grimaced and groaned when pain shot up his shoulder blade, the scab over the wound opening up a little.

"Don't get up!" she said, gently pushing him down with concern and sitting on the bed beside him. He obeyed and settled down into the soft cushions. "James, I thought I'd lost you!" she sobbed.

"But I'm here now," he replied with a small, reassuring smile. "I've made my choice."

"Really?" she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "You've decided to help us? Decided to fight Beckett and his men?"

"Yes" Norrington answered confidently.

"You know that there is no going back," Elizabeth said, her dark eyes trying to pierce his own. "That from now on you are a pirate."

Ah. Pirate. A word he had despised for years as a marine in the Royal Navy. It was his job to track down the wretched brigands and make sure justice was done.

True, in the past he had once lost his position and had been reduced to, as Jack Sparrow had said, "a rum-pot deckhand that takes orders form pirates." But that had been a horrible mistake, and he had got his reward in the end.

Or had he? What reward was there in joining Beckett's evil schemes to rid the sea of any sailor that had no allegiance to him? He had been so blind; that man was repulsive and he had been too ignorant to realise the truth.

Elizabeth laughed humourlessly. "Of course. You could never accept that kind of life, could you?"

Norrington remained silent for a while. "I regret any faults I have made in the past. By helping you and the other…pirates (that word was difficult to say)… perhaps I can repent for the wrongs I have done. I have only ever wanted to do the right thing. And that is the honest truth."

Elizabeth smiled, leaning forward. Norrington gulped and his heart skipped a beat.

"I need to rebandage your wound" she said. Norrington's spirit dropped. _Another time _he promised himself.

Elizabeth's fingers were as gentle as a summer breeze, yet she couldn't stop the fire in his blood as she peeled away the crimson bandages. As she began to patch the gun wound up again, Norrington asked "How did you come to be captain of this ship? Wait, tell me everything that has happened ever since Isla Cruzes."

Elizabeth recounted her story, starting off with the fight with the infamous Kraken, her acts of betrayal to Captain Jack (the guilt was obvious in her voice); the remaining crew's decision to rescue Jack and the resurrection of Hector Barbossa; their journey to Singapore; meeting Sao Feng and their finding of the ancient charts that led to Worlds' End; reaching the impossible realm of Davy Jones' Locker and saving Jack; Will's treachery (her voice was hard and sad at the same time here) which ended in Barbossa trading her to Sao Feng for _The Black Pearl_. She told him that Sao Feng thought she was Calypso and that he had made her captain of _The Empress_ after he was mortally wounded. Norrington knew the rest of the story from there.

"A long and complicated tale" he said as he shifted on the bed.

"Yes" she agreed, though she seemed withdrawn. He knew her thoughts were with Will. He sighed.

"You were always destined to become a pirate, weren't you?" he asked her. "Ever since you got involved with Sparrow and Turner."

She nodded. "I never knew the same fate applied to you to, of all people." She paused, then smiled. "Well, if you're to be a pirate, then you'd better start looking like one."

"Excuse-me?" he said, one of his arched eyebrows rising.

"You can't walk around pirates dressed like an Admiral," she explained. "It would be like putting a sheep with wolves."

"You associate me with a sheep and pirates with wolves?" he asked with a small smile.

"Figure of speech," she said rising. "I'll go get you some different clothes."

"Wait!" he cried.

Elizabeth spun around to face him again. "Yes?"

"Where are we headed?"

"Shipwreck City," she replied. "Found in Shipwreck Cove on Shipwreck Island."

"Unimaginative lot, these pirates."

_Next chapter coming soon, people! Reviews are very welcome! Hoped you enjoyed my story. _


	3. City of Pirates

_Urgent Note! :I changed part of chapter one so that Norrington dropped his sword so Davy Jones could still use it to kill Will, or else the story would be messed up. Hehe Kill Will, that rhymes, no offence to poor Mr Turner ^^ _

_The Brethren Court_

The new clothes that Norrington had been given felt strange to him. His admiral's uniform had been cast aside like an old rag. The loss of his uniform emphasised that there was no going back, and that from now on he truly was a pirate. Would he ever get used to that word?

He was dressed in a faded white shirt that was a little ripped at the sleeves; dark brown boots, black trousers and a navy blue jacket. The jacket reminded him of his naval days, and he wondered whether Elizabeth did this for him deliberately, so there was a shred of the past he could cling onto for the time being.

The admiral's hat had gone, as was the wig. The wig lay in a dark corner of the ship like an abandoned, powder-puff cat, and Norrington was happy the thing had been done away with: it made his head itch. Now his dark brown hair was tied back off his face with a black ribbon, and Norrington admitted that he preferred this new look a lot better than his old one. Perhaps he was destined to become a pirate after all.

As well as the new outfit, he was given a new weapon. Sadly, he had left his Commodore's sword on the deck of the _Dutchman_. He now had an average, sailor's blade, an oriental one like all the crew aboard this vessel. At least he still had his pistol.

He spend most of the voyage to Shipwreck City lying in bed, for the gun shot wound that Jones gave him was no better than before, perhaps worse. The slightest movement send blades of fire up his shoulder, and it had been near torture trying to put his new clothes on.

But now, after a day of rest, he decided he needed some fresh air, regardless of the intense pain.

As he peeked up onto the deck, a cold, wild wind whipped stray locks of hair in his face, as well as the briny scent of the ocean. The sky was a smoky grey that was slowly turning into the inky gloom of night. A dark red stain marked the sun's descent in the west, black clouds thrown across the light streaked sky.

Norrington cautiously edged up to the deck, receiving curious and hostile glances from the sailors that scurried around like a hive of busy bees. He walked to the edge and glanced over the rails, watching the dark waves moan as they hammered the hull and hissed as it turned into soft white spray. He watched at how effortlessly the ship sliced through the waves like a plough through soil, and the speed at which they flew through the water.

Norrington closed his eyes as he breathed in deeply, relishing the salty, fresh air that tickled his nostrils and cleared out his lungs.

He reopened his eyes and stared out to sea, gazing out to the distant, sun streaked horizon. There was nothing but empty ocean and everlasting sky, and the thrill of what lay beyond sent shivers down Norrington's spine. He had always loved the sea, and was forever drawn to its presence.

"Keep an eye on the horizon, men!" called a familiar voice. Norrington turned to see Elizabeth standing on the quarter deck, a dark shadow highlighted by the crimson rays of dying sunshine that surrounded her like a ghostly aura against the leaden sky. She truly looked formidable.

He walked up the wooden steps, smiling. As he neared, he could see her better. She was dressed for head to toe in a black and gold outfit that was oriental styled and made her look more than a captain. Her golden hair was hidden under a pointed hat, but tufts of it stuck out from the sides.

"Any orders for me, captain?" he said with a grin.

"James!" said Elizabeth, a warm smile on her face. "Up and about? Hmm, the new outfit suits you a lot better than your old one."

"You think so?" he looked down at himself, hiding a shy blush.

"Yes. In particular, I'm glad that wig is gone. It was horrible."

They both laughed, but then Norrington winced as the pain jolted his shoulder.

"How long till we arrive at Shipwreck Cove?" he asked, looking ahead.

"Soon."

As soon as the words left her lips, a dark smudge appeared as if from nowhere on the horizon.

"Land ho!" came a call from the crow's nest.

**

Norrington couldn't help but gasp in awe at the spectacular sight of Shipwreck City, even if it had been built by no good scoundrels.

The city was well named, because the entire settlement was constructed from shattered ships that rose into an enormous, spiky wooden mountain. Bright orange eyes marked the torches that tried to banish the crepuscular gloom, and dozens of dark shadows of pirate ships docked in the cove left little space for them to anchor their own vessel.

"I hate to admit it, but this place is incredible" Norrington breathed. Elizabeth smiled beside him, though there was an almost pained expression in her eyes. Norrington wondered what it was.

A few minutes later, they were following a ragged pirate through the labyrinthine, higgledy-piggledy passageways, Norrington absorbing all of the passing sites with a fresh curiosity. The whole place was indeed a city, but it was built with a fortress layout. Still operating canons were cleverly hidden and were ready to fire at enemy ships. And there were hundreds of rooms and full houses made completely of ship parts that lined creaky corridors of wooden planks. Drapes formed from fishing nets were like spider webs that swayed eerily in the sea breeze, and figure heads of female beauties hung above doorways. Laughter and music drifted in from a few closed doors too. Who knew that pirates were so interesting?

Eventually, Elizabeth, James and a few of her most trusted pirate crew reached the room where the Brethren Court was being held. Norrington held his breath, but then realised what he was doing and let it out as an impatient sigh. Nerves? No, he wouldn't be nervous in front of a few smelly, rum soaked buccaneers, Pirate Lords or not!

And yet, he couldn't stop a shiver of anxiety running down his spine. He was going into a room filled with pirates, up till now his enemies. He was an Admiral only a few hours ago, and if anyone recognised him, it would most likely lead to a brawl of sorts. He thought it best he should just keep to the shadows and try not to intervene. This was a pirate assembly, and he was accustomed to his new title just yet.

He knew they were getting closer. The thing that gave that away was the smell. A stale, alcoholic, filthy, sweaty stench clogged his nostrils. Norrington wrinkled his nose, and then remembered that when he had lost his role as Commodore he probably smelt like that. Rough, unrefined voices echoed ahead, and with a quick glance at Elizabeth, he went inside.

_Yay! Another chapter! Sorry if the update was slow. Action from the Brethren Court to come!_


	4. The Brethren Court part 1

_Here is the next instalment of my pirate tale. Yar! Hehe. Sorry if what they say from the film is slightly altered because you have no idea how long it took to find out this scene on YouTube! It's basically gonna be the same as in the movie as not to change the events, but I'm adding in little parts for Norrington. Oh yeah, and sorry if Jack's dialogue isn't very good. ^^ Enjoy!_

_The Brethren Court (part 1)_

They entered the room quietly, unnoticed for the moment by the dozens of pirates surrounded around a large polished table. What an odd assortment they were! Men and women from all corners of the globe, all wearing different clothes and brandishing different weapons were tightly squashed into a small room. A rickety chandelier adorned with a thousand icicles of wax hung above and cast dull yellow light upon the scene. Most of the pirates were standing, but a few were seated, and Norrington assumed these were the Pirate Lords.

Suddenly, a voice that he recognised cut through the low, aggressive, coarse babble that trembled through the room. The other voices were abruptly silenced as it spoke up. As the words echoed in the air, Norrington felt a surge of loathing and anger course through his veins. He knew that voice, and despised it with every fibre of his being. It belonged to the man that had ruined his life.

"May I point out that we are still short of one of one Pirate Lord, and I'm as content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us" said Captain Jack Sparrow. Norrington groaned internally at the sound of his words. Sparrow's voice was the same as always: a bold, positive, wily, strange, unrefined tone that was underlain with a hint of nervousness and a pinch of uncertainty.

Norrington became distracted from his dislike of Sparrow when Elizabeth trembled beside him. Glancing towards her, he was that her eyes smouldered with the same fierce determination he had seen before. She strode forwards fearlessly, and made her entrance clear with her sharp, short tone.

"Sao Feng is dead!" she proclaimed, head high as people turned in surprise at her appearance. Outraged voices sprang up as the pirates looked on with confusion and fury. Sparrow's confident grin slipped from his features. "He fell to the _Flying Dutchman._"

She rammed her sword into the large globe beside the other Pirate Lord blades, the hollow thud loud in the noisy din.

"He made you Captain?!" Sparrow cried incredulously. The horror on his face was quite amusing to James. Buccaneers stood up and pointed accusingly in her direction, muttering in unfamiliar languages.

"Listen to me!" she demanded, flames dancing in her eyes. Norrington was surprised to feel some pride in his heart for her. She really had blossomed into something fantastic. He edged in closer to listen in on the action: this was getting good! "Our location has been betrayed!"

Silence took hold whilst she explained the situation.

"Jones is under the command of Lord Beckett. They're on their way here."

"Who is this betrayer?" said a dark skinned, African man that rose to his feet.

A pirate at the head of the table waved away the demand. He wore a long, dark blue coat and an ostentatious feathered hat, and he seemed old and weather-beaten, his eyes dull and dead yet shining with something like mischief. He seemed to be the head of the Brethren Court, and he answered the African man. "Not likely anyone among us."

For the first time that day, worry and fear crept into Elizabeth's voice. "Where's Will?" she asked, searching the crowd anxiously.

"Not among us" replied Sparrow shortly. Norrington resisted a small grin. No Turner here, eh? That brightened his day, though it defiantly seemed to darken Elizabeth's.

The man with the big hat continued in his gruff voice. "It matters not how they found us, the question is what happens now that they have."

"We fight!" cried Elizabeth.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the filthy assembly. Norrington frowned. He found her words anything but funny! Of course, the best course of action now was to fight whilst they still had the chance. Norrington had been a leader in the navy for most of his life, and he knew a good decision when it was made. True, the odds were certainly against them, but with the right tactics and inspiration, who knows what you could achieve.

Sparrow looked around unsure, and then laughed along. That made Norrington lose his temper.

"This isn't a laughing matter, you idiots!" he cried, pushing his way out of the crowd beside Elizabeth, banging a fist down on the table. The laughter died like a wilting flower; it shrivelled up. "Elizabeth here is right! We have to fight whilst we still can!"

A long second past. "You!" said Sparrow confused, pointing an unsure finger at him. Jack was shocked and alarmed. This was the last person he wanted to see.

"Who are you?" said the gnarled man with the feathered hat. He looked him up and down, wondering what on earth was happening. Norrington stared back defiantly.

"That there was Commodore Norrington," explained Sparrow, wrinkling his nose a little, as if an unpleasant smell had leaked into the room. An audible hiss ran through the room like a shiver. "A man who on several occasions had messed up everybody's plans and betrayed us all in the first place by giving Jones' thump-thump to none other than that sinister midget Beckett. He stole the heart to give to Beckett so he could get back his precious ambitions, but now it seems he doesn't know whose side he's on. What are you doing here then, or are you just lost?"

"I've chosen my side" Norrington muttered, though it was mainly to himself, reassuring himself that he had made his choice final.

"Oh, well isn't that lovely! Took you a while mate. Long time, no see, eh? Got rid of that wig at last?"

"Shut it, Sparrow" Norrington growled.

"Ye were a Commodore before?" said the man with the dead eyes. "Are you sure that your friend here can be trusted, Miss Swann?"

"James is an honourable man, Barbossa" replied Elizabeth in his defence. "He's made mistakes in the past, but his experience as an Admiral will help us."

"Beckett's plans aren't hard to decipher," he added, adding a smug tone to his words. "He won't be hard to defeat in battle."

"Ha! There is no need for battle!" An oriental woman with jet black hair pinned back and a powdered face so white she looked like a ghost stood up. "Shipwreck Cove is a fortress. A well supplied fortress! There is no need to fight."

The pirates murmured in agreement. The man called Barbossa began speaking again though, his words low and persuasive. "There be a third course. In another age at this very spot, the Brethren court captured the sea goddess, and bound her in her bones."

The pirates murmured in agreement. Sea goddess? Bound in her bones? What ridiculous nonsense was this? Pirates were a very superstitious bunch of rogues, and he had heard tales of the goddess of the sea and her cursed lover. Then again, he had seen her lover for himself. If Davy Jones, the constant nightmare of sailor's dreams, was in fact as real as the sky and the sea, then surely this sea goddess existed. Norrington felt a stab of pain in his shoulder, wincing as he remembered Jones shooting him with almost deadly accuracy.

The world was indeed a strange place: he'd fought living skeletons, battled and controlled Jones' cursed crew, and now there was talk of a sea goddess that this motley group had managed to bind.

"That was a mistake."

The gathered pirates weren't expecting this. A mistake?

The old pirate's voice rose in passion and influence, the crowd silent as they listened carefully. "Oh, we tamed the sea for ourselves, aye. But opened the door to Beckett, and his ilk! Better were the days when the mastery of the sea came not from deals struck with eldritch sea creatures! But from the sweat of a man's brow and the strength of his back alone! Ye all know this to be true!"

Norrington was surprised that he was struck by the zeal in Barbossa's voice. The man was a good leader.

Barbossa pushed his way through the crowd to the head of the table besides Elizabeth and Jack, with Norrington once more in the shadows. "Gentlemen, ladies, we must free Calypso."

Seconds ticked by as slow as melting ice. Barbossa's reassuring grin dropped and he looked confused.

Once again the air burst into a cacophony of arguments and cursing.

"Shoot him!" cried a voice.

"Cut out his tongue!" yelled another.

"Shoot him, then cut out his tongue, then shoot the tongue!" suggested Sparrow. "And trim that straggly beard!" Barbossa scowled. The arguments became fiercer, and within a few heartbeats, one pirate punched another, which ignited the powder keg of one massive brawl of punching, kicking, shooting, whacking, smashing and who knew what else. Even the table was taken over with men tearing at each other like rabid dogs.

Jack looked on surprised and puzzled, his dark-rimmed eyes wide and his moustache turned down at the sides. Norrington couldn't believe his eyes; just when he was warming up to these filthy fiends, they begin beating the living daylights out of each other! How very primitive.

"This is madness!" Elizabeth gasped.

"This is politics" replied Sparrow.

"This is absurd!" muttered Norrington, shaking his head. "You pirates are all insane."

"Course we are," said Jack. "Else we wouldn't be pirates." The glint in Jack's eyes was indeed a little mad.

Norrington sighed. "Pirates."

_End of the chapter for now. The Brethren Court will continue in the next chapter. Sorry if it's bad, but please review. More reviews equals faster updates! ^^_


	5. The Brethren Court part 2

_Here is the next chapter! Thank you for waiting so patiently, and I hope you enjoy it. Remember, reviews are VERY welcome. ^^_

_The Brethren Court (part 2)_

Norrington looked on as Barbossa stepped up onto the table, clutching two cannonballs joined by a chain, and shot a bullet high into the air with his ornate pistol. Immediately, the fighting stopped and the pirates all paused in mid-punch and turned to face the weather-beaten old man. It was obvious they were irritated by the hold up: they wanted to get on with beating each other senseless.

"It was the first court that imprisoned Calypso!" he yelled, the feather in his hat quivering. "So we should be the ones to set her free, and in her gratitude she will see it fit to grant us boons!"

"Whose boons?" said Sparrow, peering in-between the old captain's legs. "Your boons?"

Barbossa rolled his yellow-tinted eyeballs as he stepped back down again.

"Utterly deceptive twaddle if you ask me" commented Jack.

"Well, if you have any better suggestions, then please, share." Barbossa motioned to the impatient pirates, confident that Sparrow wouldn't have anything better to say.

"What's he up to?" asked Norrington to Elizabeth.

"I don't know," Elizabeth answered, her lips curling up into a faint smile. "Let's wait and see."

"Cuttlefish" said Sparrow, a plan twinkling in his dark eyes. That took Barbossa completely off guard.

Cuttlefish? Norrington was now convinced that Jack had gone crazy.

"Eh? Let us not, dear friends, forget our dear friends the cuttlefish... flipper conories little sausages." Sparrow began walking around the room casually, making sure every eye was on him. Every now and again he spoke to a random pirate instead of addressing the whole assembly, dropping little hints and comments as he went. As much as Norrington hated to admit it, it was a very effective method of persuasion. Sparrow's vague, bizarre language penetrated even the most opposing minds, even Norrington himself.

"Pen them up together, and they will devour each other without a second thought," he continued, his bronze hands waving around, beads threaded in his hair rattling softly. "Human nature, init? Ooor... fish nature. So yes we_ could_ hold up here, well-provisioned and well-armed, and half of us would be dead within the month! Which seems grim to me any way you slice it! Or... ahh... as my learned colleague so naively suggests, we can release Calypso, and we can pray that she will be merciful... I rather doubt it. Can we, in fact, pretend that she is anything other than a woman scorned, like which fury Hell hath no? We cannot. Res ipsa loquitur, tabula in naufragio, we are left with but one option. I agree with, and I cannot believe the words are coming out of me mouth... Captain Swann. We must fight."

The pirates were to dumbstruck to disagree. Everyone turned to Elizabeth and saw the triumph painted on her face.

"There must be a more selfish reason for you supporting Elizabeth," Norrington protested, the surrounding pirates startled when he spoke up again. "You're only supporting her for your own benefit, as usual. Probably to save your own skin from Jones and Beckett."

"How could you suggest such a patronising comment!" said Jack, looking rather hurt. Norrington decided to stick to the shadows for a while longer. "It's like you hardly know me at all, mate! No, dear Mr. Commodore, I'm supporting Captain Swan because I feel that it's the only useful option we have." Jack glanced at Barbossa, obviously pointing out the ridiculousness of the old captain's proposal.

"You've always ran away from a fight!" said Barbossa with a scowl.

"Have not!" objected Sparrow.

"You have so!" replied Barbossa. Heads tossed and turned from pirate to pirate as they argued from opposite sides of the crowded, stuffy room.

"Have not!"

"You have so!"

"Have not!"

"You have so, and you know it!"

"Have not, slander and calumny!" Jack folded his arms in victory. "I have only ever embraced the oldest and noblest of pirate traditions. I shall admit here, that that is what we all must do. We must fight, to run away!"

"Aye!" came the enthusiastic answer that Norrington instantly recognised: Gibbs, a man that had once served under his command in the navy, now turned pirate. Norrington realised the two of them were not that different.

The whole room rang with the word "AYE!" as the pirates roared their approval of Sparrow's mad suggestion. Norrington shrugged to himself and joined in.

"Aye!" The word was strange to his articulate tongue, the coarse reply something very unlike what he would usually say.

"As per the code," said Barbossa, folding his arms with a sly smile on his cracked lips. "An act of war, and this be exactly that, can only be declared by the Pirate King."

Norrington struggled not to let out a burst of laughter. Pirate King!? Now he's heard everything. The pirates relied on a monarch; a monarch to command a band of rabble of motley rum-drenched, wobbly legged fiends! The idea seemed ludicrous, particularly if you imagine a madman like Sparrow on a throne with a crown on his dreadlock-covered head and waving a sceptre around, ordering pirates to bring him some more rum. However, Norrington was unaware of Jack's adventures on Isla Pelegosto where the cannibals made him chief, and the image the former Admiral had thought so funny was not very far from what had happened a few months ago.

"You made that up!" protested Sparrow, pointing at the old pirate and sounding a little annoyed.

"Did I now?" said Barbossa, a wicked grin on his face, eyes twinkling. Elizabeth and Gibbs turned to Barbossa, confused. Norrington raised an eyebrow, interest sparked. "I call upon Captain Teague, Keeper of The Code!"

Sparrow's expression became on of pure horror and shock, ebony eyes wide, his bronze skin paling significantly. Norrington thought he looked a bit queasy.

The name Teague was familiar to James, but he couldn't place it. Obviously, it belonged to a pirate of great importance and notoriousness, but Norrington was certain that this pirate had slipped through the Royal Navy's clutches on multiple occasions, slipperier than an eel.

An elaborately dressed pirate with a great, grey beard and moustache nudged a man next to him, requesting the man to speak for him.

"Sumbhajee, declares this all to be folly!" said the man. "Ha! Hang The Code! Who-?"

There was a loud crack that sliced the air, and the man froze as a neat hole was torn through his clothes over his heart before falling into a crumpled heap on the damp floor, his eyes wide in shock. For a few moments, the pirates were confused and startled, and frowned as they examined the fresh corpse in their midst. The shot had made Norrington jump, and he turned to see where the bullet had come from, as did all assembled. The room dropped into fearful and respectful silence as eyes flickered to the far corner.

He stood in far doorway that led into the room, and Norrington could see that it was once the balcony found at the ship's stern. Sickly yellow light enveloped the man from the corridor behind, surrounding the pirate in an almost godly glow. He slowly tuned his head and blew away the smoke of the smouldering gun and said in a low, gruff, slightly ominous voice "The Code is the law."

The pirates around the central table cautiously sat back down again without a word, fearing that they would join the dead man too if they opened their mouths. Sparrow swallowed and twitched his nose. Norrington peered in closer for a better look, but made sure he didn't edge in too close. The man stepped down the creaking, sea-rotted wooden stairs, and Norrington couldn't help but stare at the pirate with an open mouth and disbelieving eyes as he made a link between the man and a pirate that he held a bone deep grudge towards.

The man wore a wide brimmed, brown hat with a dusty feather poking out from the front. He wore a crimson, tattered coat over his yellowing shirt and dark trousers, and had his obsidian black hair in dreadlocks threaded with silver trinkets shaped like crucifixes. His skin was a dark, rum-coloured bronze in the hazy light; his piercing yet slightly unfocused eyes were ringed with black eyeliner. He swayed when he walked, as if he was unstable, or drunk, though probably the latter. Norrington sucked in an angry and surprised breathe when he realised that this was Sparrow's father.

_That will do for one chapter! Sorry it took longer to update people. Hope you enjoyed it! ^^_


	6. The Code Keeper

_eGaha! Another chapter! Hope you haven't waited too long, fellow pirates. This chapter contains a little more originality, rather than churning up the script and changing it a little____. Hopefully it will be quite interesting. Sorry if the Pirate speech isn't very good. Well, here we go…_

_The Code Keeper_

"You're in my way, boy" said Captain Teague to Sparrow, and Jack shuffled to one side, eyes on the floor like an obedient dog.

Captain Teague beckoned at something in the corner, motioning it to come forwards. Norrington craned his neck to see what was happening.

Suddenly the room was full of gasps of awe and admiration, deep respect carved into their weather-beaten features, gap-toothed mouths opened in amazement. Two ancient looking men with beards greyer than an old sheep's wool and skin like old parchment came shuffling in carrying a very heavy looking, leather bound book that guarded at least a thousand, crisp, yellowing pages full of pirate rules, regulations, secrets and the odd helpful note or random doodle. Even Norrington was courteous enough to not make a sarcastic jibe about the tattered old book.

"The Code!" whispered a balding, stout pirate with yellow eyes and teeth to match.

"As set down by Morgan and Bartholomew" added a tall, lanky man beside him with a patch over his eye.

The book was set down on the table with tender care and turned so Captain Teague could read it. Norrington shuffled closer and craned his neck to see the title carved into the thick binding: Pirata Codex.

Teague whistle softly and waved his arm, and to Norrington's surprise a scruffy grey dog with a ring of keys in its jaws trotted in. Wagging its tail, it stepped up to the table beside the Code Keeper, who took the keys from its mouth. The two pirates talking before pointed at the dishevelled mongrel and stuttered baffled questions like "Is that- ?What? How'd he-?"

"Sea turtles, mate" replied Teague, as if that made all the sense in the world. The dog barked merrily, as if it was laughing, before bounding back to wherever it came from. Captain Teague took a key from the ring and unlocked the huge, iron padlocks that kept the book's seal firmly closed. The pirates looked on in anticipation whilst the pirate hefted the pages open, the weight of the book crashing against the table. Teague scanned down the crumpled page with a bejewelled hand, muttering to himself. His son peered over his shoulder, his dark eyes reading between the lines for anything useful that could help with his bizarre schemes. Norrington rolled his eyes.

"Ah!" said Teague. "Barbossa is right." Barbossa smirked and Jack scowled.

"Hang on a minute" he mumbled. Teague edged out of the way to let Sparrow have a better look. His finger traced the elegant black script of the book, reading softly to himself, his eye twinkling as he tapped a particular word. Norrington had somehow edged closer to the mad captain than he would have been comfortable with, and had realised that Sparrow was tapping the word "Parley."

"Fancy that" murmured Sparrow with a sly smile tugging his lips. Norrington rolled his eyes again and couldn't help but sigh. Jack glanced at him and said quietly "What did you expect, mate?"

"Something a little more elaborate" commented Norrington drily.

"There's not been a King since the first court," said a Frenchman with a powdered wig. "And that's not likely to change."

"Why not?" asked Elizabeth, whilst Teague turned his back on the court. Norrington's gaze shifted to the pirate, suspicion and curiosity whispering in his ear.

"The Pirate King is elected by popular vote…" began Gibbs.

"And each Pirate Lord only ever votes fer hiself" finished Barbossa.

"So, change the system?" suggested Norrington half to himself as he kept one eye on the Keeper of the Code.

"That be unlikely to change, Commodore," explained Barbossa. "Pirates prefer to stick with what they be used to, 'specially in straights as dire as these."

Norrington nodded. In the shadows, Teague sat down in a great, throne like chair and sighed. He then took out a guitar and strummed it absent-mindedly.

"I call for a vote!" said Sparrow brightly. The pirates groaned in unison.

"I vote for Armand, the Corsair!" said a man with a red turban and dark moustache, who stood up with a raised hand.

"Capitaine Chevalle " said the Frenchman.

"Sri Sumbajee votes for Sri Sumbajee," said another man beside the Pirate Lord.

"Mistress Ching!" cried the oriental woman with burning eyes.

"Gentleman Jocard" the African pirate said firmly.

"Elizabeth Swann" said Elizabeth with a small shrug.

"Barbossa" said the old captain.

"Villanueva!" said a Spaniard passionately. Teague paused in his guitar playing.

"Elizabeth Swan" said Jack with a grin, his gold teeth glinting.

Barbossa's eyes widened in surprise. Norrington stared at the captain and blinked in confusion. This was so unlike Sparrow!

"What?" said Elizabeth, stunned.

"Curious, init?" said Jack.

The pirates began grumbling amongst themselves, disappointed and outraged that they were not voted for. Jack looked around puzzled, as if he wasn't sure what the fuss was about.

"Might I suggest that that would not be keeping to the Code?"

There was a soft twang as Teague's guitar string snapped. The pirates sat down without a word, ashamed.

"What say you Captain Swann, King of the Brethren Court?" said Mistress Ching.

Elizabeth looked at the pirates, and saw the new loyalty in their eyes. She smiled softly and declared her first order. "Prepare every vessel that floats. At dawn, we're at war."

Jack smiled warmly at Elizabeth, and caught Norrington looking at him. Sparrow winked surreptitiously.

Sri Sumbanjee stood up and opened his mouth for the first time. "And so, we shall go to war!" he said, his voice as high as the clouds in the sky.

Norrington raised an eyebrow. These pirates were a lot more interesting than naval officers. Interesting? Weird would be a better word. Norrington settled for weirdly interesting.

***

Norrington closed his sea-green eyes as the cold breeze caressed his face, smoothing the frown lines on his creased brow and chasing away the darkness that lingered under his eyelids. He leaned against the balcony of a makeshift room that had been salvaged from shipwrecks. Below him, he could hear laughter from the tavern under his feet, as well as shrill, ear-piercing tunes from a broken fiddle and very poor, slurred lyrics from the drunks that attempted to sing along to whatever piratical song was playing. But Norrington was oblivious to the racket, focusing his military mind on the battle ahead. He told himself that he was up for the challenge of defeating Beckett and his armada, that the short, irritating little man would be easy to dispose off, like swatting a fly against a windowsill. He told himself that he wasn't scared of the _Dutchman_ and her damned crew. He told himself that there would be a way through this heavy fog, and that one day he could live a life as free as the wind, unchained from the worlds' oppressive rules.

But in truth, he knew that these were all lies. He knew Beckett's fleet would be neat impossible to conquer, that Jones' men scared his to the bone marrow, and that since he'd already cheated death and it was unlikely he would survive. His bullet wound throbbed painfully as if reminding him that he'd run out of luck. Beneath his numb and icy demeanour, Norrington swallowed and sighed deeply.

"Why does it have to be this way?" he muttered to himself.

"Because life is hard."

Norrington spun around in surprise, hand on his sword hilt. He relaxed a little when he recognised the man in the doorway, but kept his hand close to his blade, just in case.

"I'd always known you'd join our side, James" said Teague as he slowly walked towards Norrington.

"You know my name?" Norrington said softly. "How?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out, eh?" replied the old pirate tapping the side of his nose. Norrington half raised an eyebrow quizzically.

Teague continued "You've always wanted to do the right thing-"

"But that didn't stop me from doing wicked deeds!" Norrington interrupted, his anxiety and frustration becoming too much to hide. His voice was raw with sorrow and pain as he continued "I betrayed you all to Beckett for my own benefit, so I could become an Admiral. I've assisted in killing hundreds of innocent people, and Elizabeth's father…" He trailed off, unable to continue.

Teague smiled softly. "Everybody makes mistakes, James. It's human nature." He paused before continuing. "You joined with us in order to redeem yourself." It was a statement, not a question.

Norrington nodded. "Beckett's side is the wrong path to take, and to flee is to be a coward. The only remaining choice is this one, and as it's the last it must be right. It's just, I've hunted down pirates most of my life, been taught how to capture them and how to deal out justice. Until now, in my eyes they were ruthless, evil scum, not worthy of the seas."

"Aye, it's true that we pirates are mutineers of law," said Teague. "All of us have done our fair share of pillaging and murdering, and many have hearts blacker than the _Pearl's_ timber. But as a whole, we are men and women who desire the freedom the ocean can offer us, who want to rule our own lives and do as we wish. And do not forget that the more civilised people of society are just as bad as pirates. Take Beckett for example."

Norrington nodded, and smiled to himself. Finally, someone was making sense!

Teague grunted satisfied, and was about to leave when he said something else. "Don't worry about the battle tomorrow. All of us are petrified, but there is always a chance we can win."

He turned again, but then faced Norrington again with a sly grin and added "And don't you be giving my son any trouble! Jacks' a good lad, madder than me, but the ultimately best of us. He got us all into this mess, and perhaps it's not his fault, but it will be him who will get us out of it. Trust his plans, and who knows, maybe we'll win the battle with nary a scratch."

Teague finally left the ex-Admiral alone with his thoughts. Norrington stood at the balcony for a while longer, his face impassive. Suddenly, he unsheathed his sword and watched the torchlight dance upon the silver blade.

"I swear to God," he muttered, fierce with determination. "That Beckett and his accursed crew will fall tomorrow."

_End of the chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. I'm so excited, maelstrom battle soon! Stay tuned people!_

.com/watch?v=XZRhx4Kxshw&feature=related 5.54


	7. Parley and Prisoner

_Eek! So excited! Thanks to everyone that's read this far and enjoyed the story. People who have reviewed it ever so kindly will receive and imaginary cookie! Yay! *cough cough* Now back to business… Sorry if any ship parts mentioned here are wrong, as it's not my area of expertise at all. Oh yes, more apologies if Tia Dalma's accent isn't written very well. _

_Parley and Prisoner _

The next day dawned dull and leaden grey, as well as unseasonably cold for such a tropical climate. Tendrils of fog wrapped around the creaking hulls of the dozen or so pirate ships that had gathered, the wood stained with a thousand droplets and their tattered sails sighing softly in the chilled breeze. An eerie silence settled upon the crews like a vengeful shadow, whilst fear gnawed at hearts and caressed tensed backs with clammy fingers.

Norrington was aboard the _Black Pearl _with Elizabeth, Barbossa, Sparrow and a collection of other pirates. Looking around him, he could see shifting eyes as bleak as the mist that engulfed the small flotilla, and Norrington wished he could take away the terror that burdened the men.

If he was Admiral, he would have tried to boost morale, inspire some sort of bravery or at least coax a little loyalty in the officers he commanded. He remembered how they would look up at him with respect, follow his every order without complaint and cheer with him when they succeeded, which they always did. Well, right until he attempted to capture a slippery Jack Sparrow whilst in the clutches of a hurricane. After that, Norrington reflected, maybe something had been taken from him. As Admiral under Beckett, he could still command a crew with efficiency and accuracy, pirate vessels dropping like flies when he gave the order. But each command was dead and lacked any warmth, his old nautical spirit crushed under Beckett's heel.

Perhaps, after or during this battle, his spirit would be rekindled. But for now, he was as numb as the pirates surrounding him.

Suddenly, like a ghost, a ship melted out of the gloom.

"The enemy is here!" shouted the little dwarf called Marty as he hung from the rigging. As great cheer swelled up from the ranks, but Norrington, as well as Barbossa, could tell from years of experience that this was the mere tip of the iceberg. Norrington's green eyes narrowed as at least twenty more ships peeled away from the mist, each so large, some of their own ships looked like rowboats in comparison. The cheer died and the men looked on with mouths hanging open is shock.

"Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" came a squawk, and Norrington turned to see the mute Mr Cotton's parrot take flight and flee, a colourful speck against the bleak sky.

Several heads slowly turned to face Sparrow, as if the answer lay with him. His nervous, kohl-rimmed eyes shifted from face to face. He gulped.

"Parley?"

Norrington groaned silently.

**

"Please let me come" asked Norrington, almost pleadingly.

"James" sighed Elizabeth, as she headed for the rowboat that would take her, Sparrow and Barbossa to a tiny scrap of sand that just about registered as "land".

"Give me a reason why not?" he demanded.

"I think it would be better if just three of us went," said Elizabeth, avoiding his gaze. "Beckett and Jones will meet us for the Parley, and perhaps Will…" she trailed off slightly. "That makes it even."

Norrington sighed in defeat, holding back the anger that coursed through his veins like liquid fire. He wanted to face Beckett, wanted to spit at his feet and curse his sorry guts. But the cool, composed, naval training took hold and the fury left him momentarily.

"Fine, go ahead without me. It's not as if I'd be any help anyway."

"Don't say that!" said Elizabeth softly.

"Oi, times a-passing Lizzie!" called Jack from the rowboat. "If we don't hurry up, maybe they'll have second thoughts about our little rendezvous, savvy?"

Elizabeth glanced at Norrington, gritted her teeth and joined a very anxious Jack and a thoughtful Barbossa in the boat. Norrington watched them go, and suddenly felt a little lonely. The only pirates he knew were slowly shrinking as they neared the strip of pure white sand, and now he was left on the Pearl with buccaneers that wouldn't hesitate to take a shot at an ex-naval officer, particularly one who was once loyal to Beckett.

He frowned, and casting a quick look at the crew, he decided not a lot would be happening until the others got back from the Parley. Not knowing exactly why, he headed below deck, away from the angry glares of certain pirates. It was if they blamed _him_ for Beckett's armada.

_Typical_ muttered Norrington.

It was a lot colder below deck, and Norrington could hear the ship groan and mumble, the ocean sighing and slapping against the hull. With a shiver, Norrington imagined the _Pearl_ as a mighty leviathan, and he had entered its sloping ribs and the creak of its dark timbers was its beating heart. Norrington scanned the gun deck, but it was devoid of people and the canons rolled slightly on their wheels in time with the sway of the ship, shafts of light from above slicing the gloom.

Norrington headed further down, where the light barely touched the bilge water-dampened wood. Here was the supply deck, and Norrington smirked at the sight of dozens of barrels of rum piled in stacks in one corner. This was the most bountiful supply down here, but of course it would be with Sparrow as captain.

_It wouldn't hurt, if, perhaps…_ Norrington edged closer to the barrels, compelled by some old force that had once taken hold of Norrington's darkened, depressed mind. His hand brushed the barrel, but then he withdrew it immediately. He needed a clear head for the battle ahead, and there would be time for rum later.

He could hardly believe what he was thinking! James Norrington, slowly becoming as obsessive over rum as Sparrow! Norrington thought his drinking days were long gone, and besides, he only drunk to drown his worries. He really was becoming a pirate, and that thought was both alarming and strangely reassuring.

Norrington shook his head, but then froze. What was that? He tensed and stretched out his senses.

A sound. Distorted and shrill. Sorrowful and surreal.

Norrington could not place what it was, but he knew the strange noise floated in from the brig. Was someone down here?

He crept forwards, boots squelching slightly on the sticky water –drenched planks, and as he edged closer to the mysterious sound, he became engulfed in the darkness that not even the sun could penetrate.

The only source of light was a rickety, rusty lantern that swayed and creaked as the ship rocked itself softly. The sound became more distinctive now, and Norrington realised with surprise that it was a music box's song. The tune was ethereal and held mourning and misery in each note, but underneath there was a much more beautiful song that once spoke of what was a seemingly unbreakable bond. Norrington blinked in curious fright as under the hazy orange glow of the lantern, a woman sat with her back turned to him.

She wore a ragged, brown and crimson dress that many years ago had probably once been splendid and sumptuous, but now decades of wear and tear had made it a sorry thing. She wore her hair in heavy, matted, black dreadlocks, threaded with beads and feathers. She had caramel –bronze skin that almost seemed to glow with a fiery luminescence in the lantern-light. She leaned against the bars of her prison, like a bird locked in a cage, and in her hands she clutched a silver pendant of crab claws that formed a heart, and inside the whirring gears of the music box.

"What brings ya 'ere, James Norrington?" she said, her voice making him jump. She had a rich Jamaican accent, with power, sadness, mystery and fury all entwined into each word, the force of her tone like a hurricane.

She turned to face him, and Norrington could hardly breathe at the sight of her. Her painted lips were pouted sadly, revealing a glimpse of her dark teeth. There were strange dots on her cheeks beneath her eyes, her soft eyebrows creasing her forehead in a slight frown. But Norrington, as much as he tried, could not tear his gaze away from her burning eyes. They were as and profound as the ocean's deepest chasm and as dark as the Kraken's ink, blazing with a fire akin to molten lava. If Norrington could compare this woman to anything, it would be the sea herself.

"I…uh…I just came here to…erm…. Get away from the crowd, if you know what I mean," was Norrington's stuttered reply. "I just needed some time to myself, some quiet."

"De calm before de storm," she whispered as she stood to her feet, closing the pendant and typing it around her neck. The silence that followed the song's demise was as heavy as the crushing oblivion of Davy Jones' Locker. "James Norrington. Naval officer, pirate, betrayer." She shook her head solemnly. "You were destined ter die."

"What?" said Norrington, outraged.

"When ya escaped wit Elizabeth and de _Empress'_s crew," explained the woman. "Ya were destined to be claimed by Davy Jones, anoter soul for him Locker. All de signs pointed to dat fate. But you, ya evade de clutches of death." She came as close to him as the bars would allow, Norrington stepping back a little.

"De tables have been turned," she sighed, her eyes distant and foggy. "Destinies have been changed." Her head snapped up to stare at him. "Dere is more to ya dat meet de eye. Ya made a choice before, but de time have come to make anoter. Which one will ya chose, James?"

Her fingers grasped the damp metal, and she leaned in close, her gaze penetrating.

"Who are you?" Norrington whispered.

"Me? Dat will perhaps be revealed today." She smiled again, but this time it was vengeful and sinister. Norrington gulped.

"So, you're saying that by some mistake, I survived the escape from the _Dutchman_, which in turn has changed my 'destiny', one that I can choose?" The woman nodded.

Norrington couldn't believe he was listening to this mystic witch, a woman as crazy as all the pirates onboard put together. Norrington was extremely sceptical of her opinion, but he couldn't help but fear her words rung with a truth so firm, he felt he could not escape it. Norrington suddenly felt his freedom slip away, and he desperately tried to cling to it.

He gulped again, stepping back from the mysterious voodoo woman that stared at him with a menacing grin through the bars of her prison, like a feral creature that was as untameable as the waves.

_No wonder she's caged up here_ thought Norrington.

He desperately yearned for sunshine on his face, wind in his hair. This cold, dark brig where everything seemed nightmarish and twisted.

"They're back!" came a cry from above, and Norrington was grateful for the excuse to get back up deck.

"Goodbye" he mumbled and without a second glance he swiftly ran from the brig and up on deck. However, he could not block the voodoo woman's last words to him.

"Don't forget ya destiny, James Norrington. Perhaps dat way, ya can save more dan one person, and redeem yaself. Dat is wat ya want, more dan anyting."

.com/watch?v=oXRqbBfsBWw&NR=1 Parley 0.29

.net/erins_


	8. The Sea Goddess

_Here we go! The Calypso part! I hope this chapter is enjoyable for all you fellow readers. ^^ Forgive me if any nautical terms are wrong, this isn't my field of expertise. _

_The Sea Goddess_

Norrington reached the top deck, blinking in the sudden, dappled light after the perpetual gloom of the brig. Panting after his escape, he saw that the deck had become a little more crowded from when he left it. Perhaps a little more crowded than he would have liked in a figurative sense too, as he was still on unfriendly terms with the newcomer that climbed out of the rowboat with Elizabeth, holding her hand.

Will Turner glanced in his direction as Norrington strode forwards with steely eyes beneath a calm mask, looked away again, and then suddenly realising who it was snapped his focus back to the ex-Commodore.

"Norrington?" gasped Will, and then frowned.

"Turner" answered Norrington with a nod and forcing a friendly smile.

The youth had changed considerably since Norrington had last seen him, fighting over Davy Jones' chest on Isla Cruzes. He had become more mature, bitterer, nobler. His dark, gleaming eyes had deep shadows underneath, a sign of overwhelming stress, as if he had been through hell and back; and his hair was longer and fuller from lengthy sea voyages, his handsome face tanned by the sun's glare. A gold earring glittered in the choked rays of sunshine, and he wore a red shirt, black leather vest and trousers. He was an entirely different person from the naive, simplistic blacksmith's apprentice of Port Royal: he was now a fully-fledged pirate, a true man of the seas that deserved respect. Norrington's heart lurched and twisted at the look Elizabeth had fixed on Turner. It was one of profound love, one she'd never given him.

"What are you doing here?" he said in his soft, velvety voice that had now taken on a husky, almost sinister edge. "I thought…"

"You thought I betrayed you all to Beckett and helped him destroy the life of the seas," finished Norrington with a wretched, angry way and a hasty sigh. "Yes, I know. For a time I did too, but now I've found my true loyalties." Norrington was fed up of explaining that to everyone.

"Right," replied Will stiffly. "Well, it's good to have you on our side." Norrington was surprised to hear a little genuine gratitude.

"You too," he answered. "Where did you come from?"

"It's a long story," said Will, suddenly looking very tired and sad. "But right now, Jack was traded for me, just as he planned it out. I think."

Norrington was about to say something in return, but Barbossa's voice stopped him.

"Steady with her now lads" said the old captain, arms folded and his face sombre.

They all turned to see Tia Dalma bound in a cage of thick ropes, slowly being led out from the hatch onto the deck by anxious pirates. Her face was grim, her dark eyes flashing dangerously. It was as if the voodoo woman was a feral creature, the pirates cautious hunters unsure what to do with their prey, suspicion, respect and terror etched on their faces as they gripped the ropes with white knuckles.

"Barbossa, you can't release her" argued Will.

Barbossa swiftly turned to look at the young man, and with a subtle nod, more crewmen appeared from behind, the click of their pistol's flintlocks final and harsh as the weapons were held against their heads. They grabbed Will, Elizabeth and Norrington to prevent them from intervening.

"Release her?" said Norrington, but his quiet confusion went unnoticed.

"We need to give Jack a chance!" demanded Elizabeth.

Barbossa spun to face her with a sour expression, and Norrington could see the anger in his dead eyes, but he was puzzled to find a hint of fear.

"Apologies, your Majesty," he answered bitterly. "Too long, me fate has not been in me own hands." He reached out and fiddled with the simple necklace around Elizabeth's neck, the last piece of eight. "No longer."

And with that, he yanked it off, snapping the thread.

"You're their King, can't you stop this?" murmured Will to Elizabeth.

"They won't listen now" she replied, shaking her head.

"Could someone please explain what is going on?" said Norrington, irritated that he was the only one that hadn't a clue what was about to take place. A ceremony of sorts by the looks of it.

"Their going to unleash Calypso, and then we'll feel her wrath," said Will softly, his eyes fixed on the bound woman.

"What?" whispered Norrington, the realisation dawning upon him. "Oh my God…"

Tia Dalma was standing by the mast, defiant despite her bonds. A pirate held out a ceramic bowl filled with the assorted junk that made up the pieces of eight, the key to releasing the goddess. Barbossa dropped in Elizabeth's necklace, and then the medallion that usually rested upon Sparrow's bandana. They hit the pile with a dull rattle.

"Be there some manner of rite, or incantation?" Gibbs asked.

"Aye," replied Barbossa, and passing his grizzled hands over the bowl, he said. "The items brought together: done. Items to be burned-" here another pirate passed the captain a smoking torch- "And someone must speak the words 'Calypso, I release you from your human bonds'". Gibbs poured some rum out of his trusty flask into the bowl, the stench making Norrington's nostrils twitch.

"Is that it?" asked the squat, balding pirate Norrington remembered from the Brethren Court in a doubtful tone.

"It's said it must be spoken as if to a lover" replied Barbossa softly with a roguish grin. The men sniggered at that, eyes lighting up with desire. Norrington noticed with a heavy heart that Will and Elizabeth briefly glanced at each other.

There was a moment of silence as Barbossa raised the torch, which was shattered instantly as he yelled at the top of his lungs in a very odd voice "Calypso! I release you from your human boo-oon-ndds!"

Tia Dalma closed her eyes fervently as she waited to be set free, other pirates around her doing the same. The torch touched the rum-soaked pieces of eight…

…Nothing. Not even a poof of smoke. Tia Dalma opened her eyes and looked in an annoyed fashion at Barbossa. Barbossa sniffed in surprise and hurt.

"Is that it?" repeated Pintel, even more cynical.

"No, you didn't say it right" answered his gangly, one-eyed companion. Barbossa turned to face him with expectancy. The younger pirate's lips quivered and he tentatively said to the old captain "You have to say it right."

He turned to face the voodoo woman, and she met his gaze. Norrington could definitely sense a spark between them in that single glance. It made his heart squirm and jealously flare. He could also feel a question struggling to break free, but he forced his lips sealed, not wanting to break this crucial moment or else feel Calypso's fury.

"Calypso?" Ragetti shuffled nearer to Tia Dalma, and affectionately and tenderly leaned beside to her ear, so close that his lips could have brushed her skin. Then he whispered the words so softly they could have been feathers on his tongue.

"I release you from your human bonds."

Tia Dalma moaned silently through her parted lips and threw her head forwards, the bowl bursting into orange flame that danced over the rum. The pirates jumped back in fear, but the bowl didn't clatter to the floor, and instead it hovered of its own accord under her face. They watched in silence as the pieces of eight melted and bubbled under the fierce heat, fusing together to form a smoking, hissing mixture. The pirates grabbed Tia Dalma and forced her trembling head closer to the bowl. Purple, wispy smoke rose from within, and she inhaled it through her nostrils.

"Tia Dalma!" cried Will of a sudden, lurching out of his guards' grip whilst they were momentarily transfixed on the scene. Norrington narrowed his eyes as he realised that Turner had beaten him to his chance to ask a question to the voodoo woman. The question that was burning him up inside.

"Calypso?" whispered Will. Tia Dalma flicked open her dark eyes and snapped her head to face Will in an instant, breaking away from the smoke with a gasp. The bowl fell and smashed onto the deck, spilling smouldering ash across the wood. Pirates all swarmed forwards and grabbed Calypso, restraining her.

"When the Brethren Court first imprisoned you, who told them how?" questioned Will, his voice low and a little threatening. "Who was it that betrayed you?"

"Name 'im!" spat Calypso, growling like a leopard.

"Davy Jones" answered Will, each syllable heavy with the terrible, crushing truth.

Calypso stood stunned for a moment, drinking in the heart-wrenching betrayal. Then she sobbed noiselessly and appeared to rise up. But then it came apparent that she was growing, growing like a fearsome wave as it became a tsunami. The pirates let go of her as if she was hot to the touch, stepping back from her in opened-mouthed terror.

"This is it!" cried Pintel as the ropes also grew in length and thickness to match the woman's rising form. "This is it!"

"No!" snarled Norrington, pushing away his guards and trying to get closer to the woman. He stopped a few feet from her, and looking up at the goddess without a trace of terror, only burning and fearless rage and desperation, he yelled "This destiny you spoke of! Tell me what it is! Tell me!" But Calypso was beyond listening to mortal's desires.

His words were cut short as a hand dragged him back and Barbossa's voice hissed in his ear "What are yer doin', yer daft fool?! Don't ruin our chances of victory!"

Norrington blinked and slackened, suddenly feeling limp and numb. Around him, pirates were shouting and crying in awe-struck dread, clinging to the ropes with white knuckles as Calypso grew larger still, so tall that the crown of her head brushed the crow's nest and her feet splintered the deck. Several ropes snapped with the effort of constricting her giant body, and the pirates were pushed to the edges of the ship as they tried to put as much distance between them and the monstrous woman.

Slowly, she stopped growing, and stood still and slightly surprised and out of breath. Barbossa shoved away fellow crewmen till he was at the front of the group and cried "Calypso!" he knelt down on one knee, he others cautiously following his suit. Gibbs yanked down a startled Norrington as Barbossa attempted to reason with the goddess.

"I come before yer as but a servant, humble and contrite. I have fulfilled me vow, and now ask a favour." Calypso looked down at him with her head held high, smiling sinisterly and looking like a child watching the ants scurrying at her feet before she squashed them. Barbossa looked up at her with shinning blue eyes and a confident yet unsure smile.

"Spare meself, me ship, me crew!" continued the pirate lord. "And unleash yer fury on those who dare pretend 'emselves yer masters, or mine."

Calypso just smirked, her eyes aflame. Barbossa stared back at her defiantly.

Suddenly, Calypso screeched out in her native tongue, Kreyol (Haitian Creole), her voice like thunder-claps over a boiling sea: "Malfaiteur en Tombeau, Crochir l'Esplanade, Dans l'Fond d'l'eau!" Unknown to the pirates that cowered in her presence, the words translated into: "Across all the waters, find the﻿ path to he who wrongfully entombed me." Calypso's burning vengeance was fixed on her lover Davy Jones, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't toy with the pirate's crew.

She shook her head wildly and suddenly dissolved into grey-green shapes that fell like hard rain, scattering over the crew and engulfing them in a sea of claws and shells. Norrington realized they were crabs before he was swept away in the heaving tide. The crabs cascaded down the edges of the lurching ship, returning to the sea where they belonged, hitting the water with a soft splosh and hiss of foam.

The crew groaned and sat up, picking away any remaining crustaceans that lingered on the ship. Norrington stumbled to his feet and saw that Pintel had rather unfortunately had a crab hanging to his nose by a large, very painful claw, which he promptly flicked off. But even more unfortunately, Calypso's freer Ragetti received a very unwanted crustacean down his trousers, and with a yelp he threw it out, hopping around in pain. Not a very pleasing reward for his services to the sea goddess.

There was a few crabs scuttling around at Norrington's feet, and he watched as they desperately tried to crawl over the railing and into the sea with the rest of their kind. With a shrug, he scooped them up and dropped them into the sea, which now appeared more restless and darker in colour.

"Cautian, James."

Norrington started at the familiar voice and began looking around for the person it belonged too. But he knew it wasn't on the ship, and he felt that only he could hear it as it pressed against his mind.

"Beware dem who 'ave 'armed us both in de past. Ya shall get ya revenge, but nat ya desire if ya chose de path laid for ya."

The voice faded away into nothing, and Norrington was left to ponder these mystic words in shaken silence.

_Wohoo! Battle scene next chapter! Ah yes, for anyone who is wondering how I discovered what Calypso is yelling, I happened to find a comment on Youtube from a person that spoke Kreyol that explains what she's saying, and they translated it into English. _


	9. Hoist The Colours

_Finally, I have actually updated this story! I'm so, so sorry this took so long, but I've been so busy lately that it's unbelievable. I'm real sorry, but this chapter is gonna be pretty short, it's just that I don't have a lot of time on my hands, and I haven't posted anything for ages and I wanted to and…anyway, here we are with the next chapter. _

_Hoist The Colours_

A chill wind rose like a vengeful ghost, scattering the pearly mist and rattling the rigging like a prisoner clutches his chains. The mighty ships groaned and heaved in the gathering swell as the sea rolled and buckled beneath their wooden ribs, the dark water slapping the sides with increasing force. The pirates on board were silent, tense, hollow. They knew with a sense of foreboding that their final shred of hope was now sinking into the depths below them, and that a ruthless armada lay before them, canons primed and anxious for action, straining on their leashes like feral hounds. They could feel Beckett's cold eyes surveying their band of ramshackle boats with a calm disdain and an icy smile on his lips.

Norrington lowered his eyes and stared at his scruffy, damp boots, wanting to look anywhere other than Beckett's immaculate war-machine. His clenched fist relaxed and he gripped the rail to steady himself. His dark hair whipped in his face as the wind whistled shrilly and writhed.

"It's not over" Elizabeth declared softly, though her words were loud after the graveyard-like stillness.

"There's still a fight to be had" Will murmured.

"It's an armada, and with the _Dutchman_ there's no chance!" said Gibbs, sorrowful frustration in his tone.

"Not to mention the _Endeavour_ standing in our way if we miraculously take down the _Dutchman_" Norrington sighed, turning his gaze to the contorting sea.

"There's only a fool's chance" said Elizabeth, a strange expression on her face.

"Revenge won't bring yer father back, Miss Swan, and it's not something I intend to die for" said Barbossa as he stepped closer to Elizabeth, and Norrington felt a stab of guilt at the mention of Governor Swann's death.

Elizabeth's face was distant, set in deep thought, her lips slightly parted as she weighed things over in her mind. Barbossa tilted his head to one side.

"You're right," she said, turning to face the grim old captain. She walked away a few strides before facing him again and asking rhetorically "What shall we die for?"

Norrington looked up and with an eyebrow slightly raised, he turned his attention to her, as did Barbossa, Will, Gibbs and several other pirates, hanging into her words, curious to see what she was trying to convey.

"You will listen to me," she said softly, stalking up towards the crew, a shadow of a grim snarl on her features. "LISTEN!" she suddenly cried, making Norrington flinch slightly in surprise. Elizabeth marched up towards the rail and stood up on it, clutching a halyard with one hand and facing the sea of attentive, grimy faces as she stood above them.

"The Brethren will still be looking here to us, to the _Black Pearl_ to lead. And what will they see? Frightened bilge rats aboard a derelict ship? No! No, they will see free men, and freedom! And what the enemy will see is the flash of our canons, and they will hear the ring of our swords and they will know what we can do!"

Norrington could feel the hope and zeal rising out of him like a dormant fire, licking the edges of the black despair that had pinned him down till now. And he knew from the gleam in the eyes of the pirates around him that they too could sense it too. It had been a long, long time since Norrington himself had inspired such unwavering loyalty in his crew, and a prickle of sadness dampened the tongues of flame when he knew that he had long since lost any kind of leadership, and was now an onlooker to some great event; a pawn on a chessboard that skirted the edges of the game whilst the queen rallied her pieces.

But the emotion Norrington felt that blazed fiercer than the others was a warm pride in his heart. He had known Elizabeth since she was a young girl, watched her grow up in Port Royal, and in time seen her mature and noticed the independent and rare spirit develop ever since she first noticed a boy in the water some years ago. He was proud for the woman he had given his heart too, proud of her achievements. And he knew too with a tug in his stomach that Will was proud of her too, and Elizabeth would not fail to notice that.

He snapped out of his thoughts as Elizabeth resumed her speech, her soft words heavy with determination. "By the sweat of our brow, and the strength of our backs, and the courage of our hearts…gentlemen, hoist the colours."

Will nodded and murmured "Hoist the colours."

Then Ragetti, then Pintel rallied the same words "Hoist the colours!"

"Aye!" breathed Gibbs his eyes wide. "The wind's on out side, boys, that's all we need!"

And with an almighty roar, the crew punched their fists skywards, their sword blades glittering with misty dew and flashing in the dying rays of sunlight, their cry rocking the ships even more so.

"Hoist the colours!" screamed Elizabeth with flashing eyes.

"Hoist the colours!" repeated Norrington fiercely, then whispering to himself "May we strike fear in Becket's black heart."

The cry that had sprung from heart of the _Pearl_ sent out long tongues of inspiration, and soon the fearsome exclamations rose to a roar to match that of the growling thunder from the thickening clouds swirling above. Flags of all colours and sizes and shapes and variations with a different insignia emblazoned across the material, but of the same purposeful message, ascended gracefully upwards, being batted by the wind and flapping so fast it was as if they were clapping their approval of the rallying pirates. As the banners were hauled towards the crow's nest and in sight of the bristling armada, Elizabeth the Pirate King watched on with a stern expression, Captain Barbossa and Will flanking her sides, Norrington just behind her shoulder.

"Let's go get them!" said Norrington with an almost piratically insane gleam in his sea-green eyes.

"Couldn't have said it better meself!" said Barbossa approvingly, his yellowing teeth revealed in a broad smirk.

And with that, they plunged forwards into the curdling abyss, the sea a frothing stew of salt and water, the sky trembling and as dark as night save for when forks of blazing white lighting sliced down towards the gaping hole that had emerged from Calypso's wrath.

_Once again, apologies for its shortness, but the next chapter will be the maelstrom battle, the chapter that's probably going to be the most anticipated :) Oh yeah, and I made up the word piratically, because there was no better word, so sorry for that!_


	10. Into The Abyss

_Slap me thrice and hand me to me mama! It's the Maelstrom part! I hope you've all been anticipating this as much as I have! I apologize for any grammatical errors that distract you from the context. And for the very slow update, because all my links to the movie were lost because they suddenly became "copyright" and I had visualise what was happening. So, without further ado, let's go kick some EITC arse! _

_Into The Abyss_

The wind screamed and whipped up a frenzy as the mist was blasted away, the boiling waves shuddering and churning until they were as thick as magma, a great frothing mass of almost slate-black water threaded with veins of darkest blue and green and gargling grey foam. Overhead, the skies curdled and twisted as though they were the contents of some celestial cauldron being stirred into a crackling broth, flashes of white-hot lightning puncturing the murky clouds.

Then with a resounding boom of thunder from above, rain cascaded down in rippling, silvery sheets; a waterfall of moisture bombarding the ships below like an army slender needles.

The _Dutchman_ plunged forward without fear or hesitation, riding the ruthless waves with such ease it appeared to glide ahead, a ghostly parody of a once proud vessel that melted out of the storm as if it were one with it. Its ragged sails were pulled taut as it was filled with wind and carried it towards its prey. The _Black Pearl _followed suit and ploughed through the heaving sea, the imposing ship distinguishable from the gloom only because it was a denser darkness that flew across the ocean. Its jet form was a stark contrast to the flashes of crackling lightning that sought to lick the ocean. It evaded the worst of the heavy, rolling waves just like its wily captain that was locked in the _Dutchman's_ brig, separate from the action.

Norrington drew his sword, which instantly glittered when droplets of rain latched themselves to the blade. He was soaking wet, but his spirits weren't dampened. He paced up and down, eager for action, but in the past he would have stood at the quaterdeck with both hands behind his rigid back, his composure stiff and eyes calculating yet nondescript as he surveyed his crew at anxious work. Now, without any high status or rank, he was free to break out of the tautness and haughtiness. At his side, Elizabeth peered through the curtain of moisture to glare at the _Dutchman_ that was fast approaching. Down below, Norrington could hear the muffled cries of Gibbs giving out order to the pirates below.

"Man that capstan!" he said as he walked amongst the crew. "Keep that powder dry!" Cannons were primed, balls shoved through their hollow, round maws. Ropes slippery with water were being heaved and tied down, their touch rough and blistering.

And then the ocean spat out fury like hell hath no.

The water was yanked ruthlessly downwards as it span and heaved, a mighty funnel forming and dragging the ships towards it's enormous mouth that was darker than the _Pearl_'s shadow, the crushing oblivion of Davy Jones' Locker sucking at their souls and luring them forwards like a magnetic force. Forks of flickering lightning illuminated the behemoth's massive body as it vomited out spray and misty vapours.

Gibb's face became ashen as he leant against the railings and stared open mouthed at the monster of nature, his jowls quivering as he turned to face the quaterdeck and yelled "Maelstrom!"

Norrington and Elizabeth glanced fearfully at each other, his stare returning to the maelstrom. Not even the hurricane he had fruitlessly chased Sparrow through had power equal to this. Norrington had lost everything then; would he lose more now?

Elizabeth rushed to Barbossa's side, her damp hair plastered to her cheeks that were pallid and taut. "Captain Barbossa! We need you at the helm!"

There was a moment of silence, as the old captain stared at his curling fingers as if he expected them to turn to dust. Cold curiosity filled his gaze as they trembled slightly.

Then he spun around to face Elizabeth and the doubt had disappeared to be replaced with joyful, smug determination. "Aye, that be true!"

Elizabeth grinned widely with renewed vigour, and a smile twitched at the corners of Norrington's lips. There was something about that Barbossa, perhaps his rough, experienced lunacy, which made him trust the captain a lot more than Sparrow. Barbossa shoved the other pirate from the wheel and grabbed the wooden pegs fiercely, his feet planted firmly on the deck, looking more than comfortable there than anywhere else. He twirled it in his gnarled hands and bellowed at the top of his lungs "Brace up the yards, yer cockeyed deck apes! Dyin' is a day worth livin' for!"

They entered the edge of twirling abyss and were quickly caught in its relentless grip. Norrington had to admire Barbossa's skill at keeping the vessel steady. He gripped the railings and narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of the_ Flying_ _Dutchman_ hot on their heels. He resisted the strange urge to shake a fist at the ghostly ship. Will stood nearby and the young man followed his gaze.

"On our stern and gaining!" Turner yelled.

"More speed!" replied Barbossa, more to the sails than the others. "Haul your wind and hold your water!"

"Take her out or she'll overbear us" said Will, striding closer to Barbossa.

Barbossa's head turned sharply and he gruffly replied "Nay, further in! We'll cut across to faster waters!"

"Prepare to broadside!" said Elizabeth, appearing at his other side.

"Captain the guns!" ordered Gibbs.

"At the ready!" added Will.

The pace of things was increasing rapidly. Soon they'd be ready for impact.

"She's almost upon us!" he cried, turning back to face Jones' ship as it glided closer. "Get ready to fire as soon as we're more to port!"

"Aye, the Admiral be right," said Barbossa, tilting the ship slightly so it leaned almost precariously towards the yawning spiral below. "Prepare them cannons, gents!"

The vessels inched closer together, and Norrington could see tiny, deformed figures aboard the enemy ship crouched at their own cannons. His heart pounded against his ribs till they ached, and he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

Then there came a chorus of yells and coarse voices united as one. "FIRE!"

There was a deafening crash and plumes of white smoke and tiny sparks painted the darkness as the cannon balls were blasted across the abyss, and the thunder roared with it and the air was ripped with screams of pain and rage. Splinters of wood were tossed about as the ammunition tore them from the planks, men shoved aside and screaming and choking through bloody spittle. Norrington ducked as a shred of the _Pearl_'s railing was shattered and a smoking fragment as thick as his arm came flying at him. It shot past in a blur of brown past the edge of his eyesight, and he felt a burst of burning pain as he scraped his shoulder blade, the very same that Jones' had opened with a bullet. Warm blood seeped through his clothes as the scab reopened, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the sting.

Barbossa spun the wheel and shouted with a crazy glint in his dead eyes "It be too late to alter course now, mateys!" And with that, he tossed back his head and cackled with glee. Norrington wished he could share the same enthusiasm.

Through the almighty booms of cannon fire that shook the deck, and the slap of frothy waves against the hulls, the ships twirled in the maelstrom's grasp, edging closer and closer, the faces of their foes now visible through the wet mirror of water that cascaded relentlessly down, rain lashing their faces and blinding their squinted eyes. Soon the ships were so near each other that their masts almost kissed each other as they leant over the watery chasm. Pirates and EITC soldiers and cursed sailors swung across the yawning mouth as the lightning flashed in time with the crack of their guns, those who collided mid-way smashing into each other and falling into the maelstrom below. Those who managed to get across where instantly assailed by their enemy.

Norrington lunged forwards and stabbed outwards as an EITC marine stumbled towards him with his arm raised, striking out at the exposed spot below his armpit. The man groaned and fell to one side clutching the wound. Another marine swung a blow at him, whom Norrington parried with a clang of cold steel, the duo duelling until Norrington slashed the man across the belly and fresh blood stained the soaked decks. Norrington couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as he took away the lives of men he used to command, but it vanished straight away when he remembered Beckett's glacial cold smirk. The face of his foe only heightened his loathing of the man and what he stood for, lending fiery strength to his sword arm.

One of Jones' crew shook the deck as he landed heavily nearby, his face hardly distinguishable as humanoid. With a growl he lashed out at Norrington who swiftly evaded the attack, and the crewman's blade got stuck into the railing of the _Black Pearl. _The man desperately tried to yank it out but it was wedged in too deeply, and Norrington took the opportunity to pierce the opponent through the back before moving along the deck, seeking another target. His skill equalled Barbossa's and Turner's, and he wanted to put that talent to good use by disposing of as many of Beckett's men as possible.

_That's all folks! I will update sooner or later. Sorry if the descriptions weren't so good, as I had to memorise the while film scenes. Hope you enjoyed it! More to come soon!_


	11. Change of Heart

_OMG pirates! So, so sorry for the slow update. But an update is better than none at all. I really hope you guys enjoy it ^^ ! _

_Change of Heart_

Norrington lashed out at an incoming foe, a splatter of crimson arcing in the air as his belly was split with a ripping squelch. He stepped over his defeated opponent and hurried further down the ship towards the stern where the fighting was thickest. He threw a hand over his face when a cannon ball crashed against the hull a few feet away, tearing three sailors to bloody scraps in a cloud of fire. The acrid smell of smoke stung his nostrils and the air was rent with screams as Norrington stumbled along the slippery deck, his face flecked with blood and water and ash.

He gasped as he just about parried a blow from an oceanic crew member of Jones, the blades screeching as they scraped towards each other's hilts. Norrington slammed his shoulder into his enemy, which made them loosen their hold, and Norrington wrenched the blade away and swung it around at the head. The crewman grunted as the sword became wedged in the fleshy, coral-like growths on his face and stabbed out at Norrington, who twisted aside to evade the attack but had his arm pierced instead. He yelped as the cold steel bit into his knotted muscles, but fuelled by ferocity he lunged forward and pushed his weapon through the crewman's chest.

Panting but energised, he wheeled around seeking another foe, but found none at close proximity. In the spare few moments of respite, he caught sight of the _Flying Dutchman_ gliding closer like a carrion bird circling down to a corpse, its ragged sails voluminous. He could just make out through the veil of rain the hated figure of Jones among his crew, tentacles writhing as he confronted another person. This other hazy figure was oddly familiar and almost as unloved by Norrington: Jack Sparrow, hat proudly perched on his head and one arm clutching a rectangular, box-shaped object. It was the chest. Sparrow had the heart!

As his mind began to process this information, a flash of movement tickled the corner of his eye and he turned to see Elizabeth stabbing one of Jones' sailors to the capstan, Will Turner also darting forwards to thrust his sword at the same opponent. They spiralled around for a while, hacking at their enemies and blocking swings of blades. Then Will, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and looking into her eyes, oblivious to the battle around them, said something that made Norrington's heart contort and squeeze until he felt sick.

"Elizabeth! Will you marry me?"

His breath was caught in his throat as he stood stunned and crestfallen and furious all at once.

"I don't think now's the best time!"

Another round of slashing and striking as the enemy advanced before Will continued "Now may be the only time! I love you. I've made my choice. What's yours?"

"Barbossa!" exclaimed Elizabeth, and Norrington momentarily forgot his sorrow when it was replaced with the same confusion that was pasted onto Will's face. But then the final, gut-wrenching blow came when Elizabeth turned to the old captain with her reply.

"Marry us!"

This was it then. The only woman he'd ever given all his love, all his attention, all his promises to, had thrown them away as if they were meaningless. He'd been by her side for over a decade, protecting her and making sure she was happy. And as soon as that accursed Sparrow had come to Port Royal astride a sinking dinghy, all of a sudden Will was the one in the forefront of the picture, Norrington squashed up behind the frame and only coming out when they relied on his help, which was hardly ever. He felt worthless, unloved, alone. An outcast amid a sea of pirates.

It was only a crack of nearby gunfire that shattered the spell and alerted him to the present. He sharply turned his head and saw a marine pointing a pistol at him and a few inches away from his neck there was a smoking hole in the wood of the stairway. It was only then that he remembered he was meant to be fighting a battle.

_What's the point? When Elizabeth doesn't love me, who will?_ said a dismal little voice in his head. But common sense and instinct took control and pushed away glum thoughts for the time being. He rammed his sword into the marine, dispatching of the man quickly.

As Norrington hacked and parried a vicious circle around him littered with the dead and dying, he could numbly hear Will and Elizabeth saying those terrible vows of marriage and duty to each other as they almost danced in a bloody ritual of attack and defence, as well as the insane old Captain Barbossa screeching the rights and cursing as he fought his enemies with extreme skill. He tried to block out those voices, but they were louder than the crash of cannons, the snarl of thunder, the roar of the maelstrom lapping at the vessels' sides. There was a ringing clang of steel as Will and Elizabeth's swords clashed together, both mistaking each other as an enemy. And then they lowered their weapons and shared the ultimate kiss, sealing their love, an eternal bond.

It seemed to play out in horrible slow-motion, time crawling past and every sound magnified, every sight peripheral. Entwined in each other's embrace and lips tightly pressed against each other, they alone were a torch of peace and perfection in the bloody chaos that surrounded them.

There was a moment when Norrington was transfixed, before something shattered within him and all the colour rushed to his cheeks. He roared in an almost animalistic way and lumbered forward towards the pair, sword rattling in his trembling palm, the knuckles as white as bleached bone.

There was a sudden explosion of painful fire in the back his head, before deadened silence and paralysis took hold and he collapsed to the wet deck, blood trickling from the wound there caused by a piece of flying metal from a cannon.

He could feel a rushing wind in his ears through the frenzied maze of darkness before his eyes, and then a sudden boom that shook the wood beneath him and the marrow of his bones. Unknown to him, the masts of both ships had collided together and were now dragging each other into the watery hell beneath. A few moments later, he groggily raised his head with a moan, gingerly touching the tender spot where his head had been scraped. Rising shakily to his feet, he saw a lack of enemies on board, but with a jolt of an emotion he couldn't quite work out – someplace between fearful protection and grudging dislike- he saw Elizabeth swing across the maelstrom to the _Dutchman_.

He lurched forwards, barely considering what he was doing, and gripping a slippery rope he kicked off from the _Pearl_'s deck. The yawning abyss sucked hungrily at his feet as he gripped the rope like a mollusc to a rock. He let out a sigh of relief as his boots made contact with the ghostly ship's deck, but it was short lived when he saw Elizabeth locked in single combat with the wretched, deadly captain himself. A quick glance through the lashing rain revealed a stunned Jack on the floor and Will battling a crewman that looked creepily recognizable to Norrington. He winced when Elizabeth was thrown to the heaving deck, defeated and defenceless. He was about to call out her name, dart forwards and stab the slimy bastard that loomed like the grim reaper himself above her, but Turner was already there to plunge his sword into the captain. Jones screamed, but then laughed malignantly.

"Mister, did you forget? I'm a heartless wretch." And with his large mutilated, claw-like hand, he bent the metal upwards so that Will, no matter how hard, couldn't yank the blade free. Jones slashed out at Will, who evaded the attack, but then the captain span around and kicked the young pirate in the head with his crab's leg, and the boy was sent flying across the deck to slam against the sludgy wood.

Norrington was desperate to go an intervene, hack off Jones' bloated head, but something had frozen him to the very bones and he was but an onlooker to events he couldn't stop. It was not fear or uncertainty that forced him to freeze. It was more waiting for the opportune moment.

Jones glanced from Elizabeth to Will, and cruel comprehension dawned upon his viscous face. "Ah, love. A terrible bond so easily severed. Tell me, William Turner, do ye fear death?"

"Do you?"

Everyone's gaze snapped to the familiar voice. Jack Sparrow was clutching the still beating heart of Jones in his bronzed hand, blood trickling down from the valves of the shrivelled thing and being instantly washed away by the rain. In Sparrow's other hand was the severed shaft of his sword, the point cut clean and sharp by Jones' claw.

"Heady tonic, holding life and death in one's palms" he said gesturing to the heart, eyes dark and shrewd.

"You're a cruel man, Sparrah" spat Jones.

"Cruel is a matter of perspective."

"Is it now?" Jones smirked, eyes as predatory as a shark's and as dead as tarnished obsidian. His hand tightened around his sword, the sword once wielded by the admiral.

The invisible bonds holding Norrington snapped and he leapt forwards towards the captain, blood rushing in his ears and eyes wide and frantic as he realised what was about to happen.

"No!"

Jones spun around and the blade came down…

_Gasp! Cliff hanger! Big thanks to Nytd for helping me with that troublesome word, and for all you lovely guys for reading this story. One or two chapters remaining, so stay tuned! _


	12. A Destiny Fulfilled

_I left you all on a cliff hanger before, didn't I? Apologies for freaking some people out! I wrote up this chapter real quick because I just had to continue it ASAP! Yeah, it may all seem a little too obvious, but I really hope you enjoy the chapter, because it the penultimate one!!_

_A Destiny Fulfilled_

"No!"

Jones spun around and the blade came down…

And stopped inches short of Will's heaving chest as Jones arched sharply backwards and shrieked, water spraying from his mouth and tentacles flailing. Will gasped as he spotted a slender silver shaft protruding from Jones' barnacled stomach, the metal flashing in a flicker of burning lightning. He was confused and stunned until he saw the grim-faced ex-Admiral viciously twisting his blade further into Jones' gut to exact more pain from the hated sea devil.

Norrington's teeth were gritted in resolve and his eyes blazed in a frenzy that mirrored the ferocity of the lightning that surged around him. He drank in the dark sweetness that spawned from receiving a good slice of vengeance. Even though he knew the Captain could not be killed by mortal wound except for the destruction of his inky heart, it still felt good to finally thrust a weapon into your enemy.

With only a few moments hesitation, seeing that Jones was distracted by the cold steel churning in his belly, Will jumped to his feet but remained stooped as he staggered swiftly across the slippery deck to Elizabeth's side. Elizabeth was still on the floor but was sat up and as stiff as a board as she leaned forwards in fearful anticipation, eyes darting between Will beside her and Norrington. Bootstrap hadn't moved an inch from where he was slumped against the railings, staring at the blackish blade wedged into the wood by a youth with a face Bootstrap remembered, but couldn't name. Jack was frozen too, broken sword poised over the pounding heart, torn between a side to chose.

Norrington wrenched out his sword with a grunt-like snarl and shoved Davy away, the Captain slamming against the railings and stunned for perhaps a heartbeat. In this short time, Norrington glanced over to Jack, who was biting his lip in frustrated confusion.

"Just do it, Jack!" cried Norrington in exasperation. Jack looked up, bewildered. In the back of Norrington's mind, he felt a flicker of puzzlement too: he'd just called him Jack.

A sudden pressure on his back thrust him back to alertness. But it was heavy and drove into him and made him jerk forwards sharply. There was a second of confused deadness before an onslaught of fire twisted through his veins and pulled at his throbbing bones and severed his nerves that drenched parts of him freezing numbness. He gasped and gagged on the blood that he heaved up his throat, eyes bulging as all he could feel was that scorching magma-hot agony that gripped his entire torso. He could hear a startled thudding in his ears that could only be his weakening heart, the rain and lashing of the waves a whooshing wind, Elizabeth's scream muffled. He shuddered and looked down to see Jones' sword – no, his old commodore's sword – jutting just inches from his heart, his left lung pierced by the metal that sliced into him. He felt something wet and cold beside his ear.

"You will not forestall my judgement, Admiral."

The sword was yanked free with a smooth sliding sound slick with blood and Norrington gasped and gurgled before any strength in him deserted him and he collapsed to the deck.

Unknown to Norrington, Elizabeth was screaming his name and sobbing whilst Will held her back and held her close. Jack's eyes were wide with surprise, but he gulped when Davy turned to face Will.

"Back ter business" Jones chuckled darkly.

It just happened at that moment to be when the truth crept up upon Bootstrap as he stared at the dark little knife before him. His misty eyes became sharper and he hoarsely murmured "William! My son!" He turned to face Jones who was now advancing upon Will and Elizabeth, and with a croaky roar he staggered towards the Captain and grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him down, the two cursed men wrestling and beating each other ferociously.

Will loosened his grip on Elizabeth, and the two of them darted forwards to Norrington. The ex-admiral was pallid and his eyes were glazed and unfocused, perhaps seeing beyond the curtains of rain and lurching deck.

"Why did you do that?" asked Will softly "You could have just let the sword stab me."

"You have more to live for… I have nothing" Norrington murmured, his voice slurred. His eyes rolled towards Elizabeth, and he coughed and mouthed her name. Elizabeth shook her head and whimpered shakily.

Jack stared at Bootstrap and Davy, then Will and Elizabeth clustered around Norrington, and lastly the pulsing organ in his hand. He sighed and closed his eyes, and when he opened them he scowled. "Ah well, I was always rooting for him. Bloody Norrington."

***

The fire in his chest was all Norrington could focus on, because it stole every ounce of his attention till that was all that he knew. Everything was darkness before his eyes; perhaps it was the cloud of smoke from the blaze that he thought must be turning him to ash. But then he felt another pain tug his torso. It was just as strong as the fire in his veins, but for some reason it wasn't so painful.

And then something strange sensation washed over him. It was cold, but not freezing. And yet it felt of nothing, so it was like the wind had enveloped him. It was actually quite pleasant.

_Am I dead?_ he thought. _Is this what it feels like? Is there something beyond life?_

While he pondered his situation, time stretched on into eternity, but at the same time lasted no more than a second, so he had no comprehension of how long he remained in the cool quiet calmness. But then there came another change.

He frowned as he could suddenly sense something tingling the edges of his fingertips. It spread all over him and made him twitch. And then he could hear a dampened hiss as his consciousness returned, smell the bring scent of the ocean, taste some metallic dry blood coating his teeth. He could see a faint light before him, and soon it became a peachy-red brightness that demanded to open his eyes.

_ I have eyes?_ his sluggish brain told him.

He cracked them open and winced at the intense sunshine that deflected off his retinas.

_ When did it get so sunny?_ he thought as his memories returned. And then he recalled Jones and the pain, and with a gasp he abruptly sat up.

He was still on the _Dutchman_, but he was near the steering wheel. How he got there he didn't know. As he sucked in several shaky sharp breaths, he felt the oxygen filter though his lungs, but the although the action was familiar and rhythmic, it felt odd. Norrington could also feel a slight coldness over his heart, but then froze.

He had no heartbeat.

He looked down and saw his shirt had been torn open, and he cried out in alarm and a little revulsion at the jagged red line that stood out like a scarlet ribbon on his flesh, his chest heaving in shock.

But Norrington suddenly felt a great thrill of relief and determination. Oddly, this felt _right._ He now had a purpose as the _Dutchman's_ captain, something worth doing with his life, some honour he had regained. He gritted his teeth and stood up.

Before him he could see the crew looking up at him in either awe or with grins on their faces. But the crew were hardly recognisable, for their oceanic masks had fallen from their pink fresh flesh, and they peeled off watery sticky features like irritable scabs. One sailor caught his eye, and he recognised him as the man that had attempted to attack him when he was helping Elizabeth and her crew to escape. The sailor met his eye, smiled crookedly and dipped his head a little.

Norrington returned the smile before addressing his crew, his eyes bright with predatory excitement as he spotted the _Endeavour _before him and the _Black Pearl _beside him.

"Ready the guns! The fight's not over yet!"

_Gaha! One chapter left now! It came so quick! I hope you enjoyed it guys, even though it was obvious from the very beginning. _


	13. Parting Of Ways

_Major gasp! Last chapter!_ _Yes, regrettably, this is the end of the road for this story. Sorry if I took ages to update, but I never had the time to write it all up. And yeah, sorry if a few facts are a little tweaked around, but it sort of works this the way, I can't spell the name of Beckett's ship, so sorry! I've had so much fun writing this, and a profoundly massive thanks yo all you lovely reviewers! Expect more POTC stories from me in the future, if inspiration ever strikes me. _

_Parting Of Ways_

Norrington grabbed hold of the _Dutchman's_ mighty wheel and spun it around so fast it was a blur in his hands. His vessel turned sharp and smooth, heading for the _Endeavour's _starboard side. In the near distance, the _Pearl_ followed suit and mirrored his actions and aimed for the other side, slicing through the torpid slate sea like a shark on the trail of blood in the water. Now the two ships glided forward in unison, both with the same goal in determined mind, edging closer to the _Endeavour's_ like wolves of the sea.

Norrington wondered with grim curiosity whether Beckett had realised what was happening, if the prim, white-wigged man could feel the awful, crushing certainty of a dark fate collapsing upon him. If he was aboard his ship - if he never swapped sides - Norrington knew he would have concluded that there was no way they could win. Even if the _Pearl_ was blasted to smithereens by the flash of her numerous canons, there wasn't a chance in Hell that the _Dutchman _would be swallowed by the sea a second time that day.

A few more seconds whipped by in the blink of an eye, and Norrington's heart would have beaten an adrenaline-fueled tattoo on his ribs if it still had a pulse. They were now running alongside the _Endeavour's _and Norrington was filled with an overwhelming sense of anticipation and almost predatory blood-lust. He was so close to stamping out what had taken his life away, so close and yet it wasn't coming close enough. But his years of nautical leadership kept the frenzy numbed down so that he gripped the wheel lightly and regarded his quarry with cool calculation. But he couldn't repress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Lord Beckett's flag ship was a reflection of himself: gaudy and extravagant in its exterior and gold trimmings; but a force to be reckoned with, swollen with dark reputation and fearsome in it's power. But now it just seemed like a ludicrously big ship, cumbersome and unsure as it bobbed about on the waves.

No one was doing anything on board. Or at least, nothing helpful. The ship was stationary and appeared stuck to the tenacious waves it rode.

Norrington smirked. He could make out the finely-dressed, diminutive speck that was Beckett, standing stock still. He was a short man compared to the tall, wiry crewmen, but now he appeared shrunken and deflated. _Excellent _thought Norrington.

He could see marines scurrying aboard on deck, confused and agitated like freed slaves without a master to direct them. Norrington felt a twinge of pity for the crew. True, they sailed under Beckett's colours, helped snuff out hundreds of candles of life. But they were only cogs in the machine, numerous minions beneath a twisted master, many of which might not even share his opinion on pirates.

But there was no time for mercy when there was a path laid out for you to follow. Norrington could only hope a few marines survived their attack, if it was possible.

A cry broke out from the _Pearl's _midnight decks, and Norrington snapped out of his thoughts to process the word being screamed.

"FIRE!"

Norrington rallied the word to his crewmen, shouting out his hatred and fury and sanguinary determination to the sky, the order so loud and darkly passionate that it was a wonder why the clouds didn't draw back in alarm. As his vocal cords strained with the effort, he felt something stir deep within him: chains were broken.

He staggered a little as the canons boomed below his feet, the lion-headed maws of the ship's hull appearing to roar and spew out fire like Chimeras. The canon balls tore into the _Endeavour's _flanks, splinters of wood spiralling through the air and ochre smoke from the sawdust spewed out of the gashes. Chaos reigned supreme as men cast themselves off deck to escape the madness of flying wood and metal, their faces contorted and misshapen like melting wax as fear consumed them. Canons and men were tossed through the air like flies swatted away, the masts collapsing like felled trees. Screams rent the air like tortured banshees as piece by piece the flag ship was devoured by the two pirate vessels. And still, the _Endeavour_ made no attempt to stop her death.

It was a swift dealing of justice. By the time Norrington could see the _Pearl's_figurine with triumphant outstretched arms, a canon ball had hit the powder magazine, and the _Endeavour _exploded outwards, erupting into a ball of fire. Glass shattered and rained down like frozen tears. Calypso claimed her first prize as the _Endeavour _began to sink.

Norrington could still feel the inferno's heat on his face and the ash in the air as he dipped his head respectfully for the lost souls. As the _Dutchman's_captain, it was his duty to look after and ferry the dead, and soon he would need to deal with the traumatized souls floating among the charred flotsam and jetsam of the _Endevour's_ carcass. One such soul would be Beckett's, and however much he hated the man, he respected his new role and would send Beckett off to the afterlife just the same as any other soul. But whatever judgement would be passed beyond world's end was not his to sway.

A great cheer swelled up from the ranks of the _Pearl_, the rest of the armada fleeing in stunned terror now that their greatest ship and their leader were no more. Norrington's own crew joined in with fierce exaltation as they scampered up to the deck, shaking their fists and and throwing up their hats with delight. Norringon smiled too: revenge was indeed very sweet.

But then after the feeling of happiness and a purpose fulfilled drained out of him, leaving him hollow and empty. He turned back to the _Pearl_, and imagined Elizabeth's bright eyes as she cheered with her crewmen. And then in his mind's eye he envisioned Will swooping her up in his arms and husband and wife would kiss as they celebrated victory and the excitement of beginning a care-free life together. Norrington accepted his destiny, and that Elizabeth had chosen Will over him, like she would have always done. But it still left him bitter and cold inside, the loneliness made sharper now that he could only step ashore once every ten years. He could walk upon land today, but what would be the point? There would be no one to share the chance with.

Just then, he heard someone shuffle to his side. He turned and saw the crewman that had tried to kill him before. How long ago it seemed that he fled the _Dutchman!_

_Only to end back on it again, forever_ he thought sullenly.

"Mind if I introduce myself, Captain," said the sailor. He stuck out a hand and Norrington grasped it. "William Turner."

Norrington's eyebrows rose. "So- so you must be Turner's father?!" Norrington exclaimed, before smiling slightly. "Small world."

"Aye" Bootstrap chuckled.

Norrington glanced back to the _Pearl_ and an idea dawned upon him. "Your son is aboard that ship. Is it possible I could release you in your service to me, so you could join him?"

Bootstrap's mirth died away and he looked very sad. "No. No, I don't think it's possible. I must serve 100 years aboard the _Dutchman_ and then I can be free, but then I would be at peace. If you were to free me now, the same would happen. The only way I could be with William is when we meet in whatever Heaven lies beyond life, cursed or not."

Norrington nodded sorrowfully. "I am sorry."

Bootstrap shrugged, but his eyes were glassy. Then a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, Captain. We've distant shores to sail."

Norrington stared longingly towards the _Black Pearl_. Was Elizabeth staring back? Was it his imagination, or could he spy her fair hair blowing in the breeze, her face turned towards his vessel? In his immortality, he would never forget her. Not after 1000 years aboard ship would he forsake her, and he would cherish every memory of him and her.

Their destinies had been entwined, but never joined. _Elizabeth..._

Then he pulled himself together and using a little effort he turned away from the _Pearl_and faced the open sea. Beyond that endless horizon, what etheral realms lay there? What was it like in the land where only immortals dared to tred?

He smiled as curiosity got the better of him, the wind battering him as if to urge him forward. He felt something warm and purposeful bubble up inside him, and with a soft laugh he turned to face Bootstrap. "Aye, Mr Turner! We have no time to waste! Step lively!"

"Aye, captain!" grinned Bootstrap as he hastened down the steps to help the other sailors tug a rope into place.

Norrington gently touched the wheel, as if patting the neck of a faithful steed, before grasping it in his hands, turning it and grinning broadly as the _Dutchman_ headed towards the ends of the earth, to sail upon stranger tides.

When sunset fell, casting orange and golden lights dancing upon the gleaming waves and open sails, the legendary _Flying Dutchman_ vanished into empty air in a blaze of emerald green.

THE END


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